Not exactly home improvement – more home defense. But here goes . . .
A few years ago, we realize that a squirrel has moved into our attic, right above the master bedroom. I’d lay in bed at night listening to the little bugger scamper back and forth around the tray ceiling above our head. I quickly found the hole it had chewed to access the attic – but on solid advice, I didn’t repair the hole until I dealt with the squirrel, as I was assured the squirrel would simply chew a new hole.
After a quick trip to the hardware store, I came home with a live trap and instructions on how to bait for squirrels. Best advice was to smear peanut butter over a pinecone. Squirrels can’t resist – I was assured. So I place the trap in the attic, near the highway that had been worn in the insulation, leave the attic, and wait.
The next day I go up to the attic to check, and sure enough – the bait is irresistible to squirrels. However, no squirrel in the trap. Just a clean-as-a-whistle pinecone safely contained in a tripped live trap. OK – no worries. I re-bait the pinecone and try again. Closing the attic, I wait.
Day 3 – I check again. Sure enough – the pinecone is licked clean and the trap is sprung – but no squirrel. Rats. Being a persistent type, I try again.
Day 4 – I try again. Same result. Day 5 – I try again. Same result. Day 6 – my wife starts to catch on and openly begins to question my sanity. I try again.
Day 7 – I swear that this is the last try. Bait the trap. Close the attic. Wait. But this time, my motivation to keep checking on the success of my squirrel-feeding program begins to wane. Life takes over, and I forget to check the trap. Days pass.
Sometime later – I finally head up to the attic to check again. Perhaps it was a week, perhaps 2. In all honesty, I was tired of being beaten by this little bugger and didn’t need the constant reminders of my own personal failings. Nevertheless, with a dark feeling of inevitability, I head up to the attic and crawl toward the trap - expecting to find yet again a pinecone licked clean. As I approach – sure enough I can see the clean pinecone, as usual. However – this time, success!!! I have trapped the squirrel. I win I win I win!!!
Now technically – I’m not sure if it’s a win if the live trap ends up killing the squirrel. Sure enough – he’s dead. I kinda feel bad – the little guy probably starved while I was ignoring my persistent sense of failure. I reproach myself for not being more vigilant. Meanwhile – I pick up the trap and turn to leave the attic.
It’s at this point when the dead squirrel (poor guy) gets the last laugh (not actually – but close). As I turn towards the stairs coming down from the attic – the dead squirrel suddenly lunges at me.
Now I’m an adult male. In reasonably good shape. And I fancy myself somewhat brave. I’d certainly defend my family if need be. I’ve done some extreme sports. I sit in rush hour traffic for hours every day. So I’m no stranger to fear. However – when this dead squirrel (poor guy) lunged at me I screamed like a baby. No matter that the squirrel was locked in a cage. No matter that I’m an adult man and the squirrel a tiny rodent. No matter that I have faced down death and laughed to tell the tale.
Funny thing, though. It turns out that when you fling a live trap at the floor, with all your strength – enhanced no doubt by a quart and a half of adrenaline – something funny happens. Apparently – when you do just that, the trap opens up. And when the trap opens up – the formerly dead squirrel (little bugger) takes the opportunity to escape the trap. Into the attic. Above my bedroom. So after weeks and weeks of hunting and finally capturing the squirrel in my attic – I celebrate my success by releasing the little bugger right back in to my own attic.
TLDR – I caught a squirrel in my attic. I released a squirrel in my attic. I’m a dumbass.
Some other day, I’ll share the tale of how the little bugger got the last laugh.
